


See What the Daylight Brings

by emjam



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Ford is mentioned like once, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Kinda, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7765498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emjam/pseuds/emjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mabel never told Dipper, but sometimes she would reach past the glitter glue pens and packets of construction paper in her craft kit, close her hand around a pair of scissors, and use them for something else.</p><p>Dipper never told Mabel, but sometimes he would jolt awake with his heart pounding and his mouth frozen just short of letting out a horrified scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See What the Daylight Brings

Mabel never told Dipper, but sometimes she would reach past the glitter glue pens and packets of construction paper in her craft kit, close her hand around a pair of scissors, and use them for something else.

Sometimes she felt absolutely awful, sometimes she blamed herself. Sometimes she felt like it was all her fault that everything had happened like it had. If she hadn't reacted so strongly _(childishly)_ , grabbed the wrong bag and run off like she had, the rift would have been safely sealed, the end of the world avoided. Knowing that you single-handedly caused an apocalypse and started a chain of events that led to your Grunkle losing his memories was not an easy thing to swallow. She took the scissors, blades glinting in the line of light that fell upon it from between the blinds, attacked herself, and left angry lines high up on the skin of her thighs that would burn against the waistbands of her skirts for days afterwards, because how else could she let it out? Everything was over. She was supposed to be happy, but she wasn’t. She was supposed to move on, but she couldn’t. Tears would well up unbidden even as she tried to smile them away.

Sometimes she needed physical proof that she wasn’t in the bubble anymore, that she wasn’t just sitting vacantly inside a fake world as reality still tore itself and her family apart on the outside. Her happiness felt real until it felt fake and that was what would tip her off. She pushed down too hard, and drew blood for the first time, and that had sent cold fear clamoring up her throat at first, until she cleaned the cut up and hid it under a _you’re the best!_ band-aid. After that, the blood itself didn’t worry her much anymore. After all, she had lots more band-aids where that came from just in case, and knew how to sneak into the bathroom in the dark without bothering the one creaky stair by now, and everything would be alright. _Right?_ she wondered, but the smiley band-aids only stared blankly up at her.

* * *

 

Dipper never told Mabel, but sometimes he would jolt awake with his heart pounding and his mouth frozen just short of letting out a horrified scream.

Sometimes he woke up with a start, rubbed at his arms, looking for scrapes and fork-prong holes that weren’t there, the echo of a laugh and nauseating yellow eyes and _a grin that wasn't his but was_ sticking to his brain. Sometimes he would wake up in the dull, chilly blue of early morning and test the barrier he had made around their home with leftover unicorn hair and a few materials from Ford; when Dipper had asked his great-uncle about putting up a barrier around their house in Piedmont, he wasn’t made fun of, wasn’t told that everything was over and that he didn’t need it. Ford understood, and gave him the supplies without asking a thing. Dipper knew that the magical barrier was impenetrable, except for when wakefulness was violently thrust upon him at odd hours of the night by the same horror that the barrier was made to protect against, and he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Sometimes he would wake up with the stench of weirdness in his nose, the kind that hung heavy in the air during the apocalypse, of something not unlike sulfur, not unlike burning, but also sickly sweet and unnameable. Sometimes when he woke up like this he would look around his room, would realize that he was _here_ at home in Piedmont and not _there_ , and wonder if the entire summer hadn't actually happened, if he had actually always been _here_ and had never left. It had all been crazy enough not to be real. His breath would quicken, and he would throw off his unbearably warm covers to frantically search for the bag where he kept everything he had gotten from Gravity Falls: the dinosaur tooth, Wendy’s hat, a little UFO keychain from Great-Uncle Ford, the DVD set of Ghost Harassers - it would all be there, and he would relax, but not completely, because the smell still lingered. It clung unnaturally to his clothes despite mundanely cleaning and magically cleansing them religiously. Even though his laundry habits did a complete 180 thanks to his efforts, the stench never seemed to leave, like it had burned itself in.

* * *

 

Dipper and Mabel never told each other, and at 2:40 AM on a Saturday morning, Dipper found Mabel sitting on the kitchen floor eating straight out of the cookie dough ice cream container that he had planned on devouring after his 2AM barrier check. He had walked in through the back door that led to the kitchen, closed it as softly as possible, and blinked in surprise at the artificial refrigerator light that illuminated the floorboards. Pushing down his anxiety and the images of Pitt Cola being poured into _his-not-his_ eyes _(who could possibly be up right now? did the barrier stop working for a moment when I was checking on it? don’t be silly, it’s Mom or Dad or Mabel, it’s not-)_ he braved a look around the fridge door. It indeed was Mabel, sitting on the ground next to the bright light of the fridge, a blanket around her shoulders and a few neon band-aids - acting, oddly enough, like bike reflectors in reaction to the fridge light - littering what was visible of her thighs before they were covered by pajama shorts. She was mostly out of the way of the bulb's direct light, but if he strained his eyes through the dimness, he could see her scooping ice cream into her mouth out of the container in her lap. She looked up at him, surprise evident on her features, and he looked back.

Before he could speak, she swallowed her bite, reached up to the utensil drawer to the right of her head, pulled out a spoon, and pointed it up at him. A bit of vanilla ice cream was spread on her upper lip. “Wanna join me?”

He only hesitated a moment before accepting it. “Sure.” Cookie dough ice cream had always calmed them both down, and he could almost taste it already as he plopped down next to Mabel. Dipper wondered about the colorful band-aids that shined so bright and what lie beneath, and Mabel wondered why Dipper had been outside long enough to smell like the night air, but for now, they shared the ice cream tub in silent understanding.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if neon, bike-reflector-esque band-aids actually exist, but I feel like if they did, Mabel would own them.
> 
> The title is from "Daylight" by TMBG.


End file.
